


But Tonight, I Still Dream of You

by Sprite_Vodka



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Amnesia, Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon-Typical Violence, Fluff and Angst, Hanzo Shimada has Prosthetic Legs, M/M, Temporary Amnesia, a couple parts are meant to feel uncomfortable but that's thanks to the memory loss, ask to tag, background Gency
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-29
Updated: 2019-12-29
Packaged: 2021-02-27 03:55:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,471
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22010647
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sprite_Vodka/pseuds/Sprite_Vodka
Summary: “Welcome back to the land of the living.” Her voice was kind but her smile was strained, an accent he couldn’t pick up laced in her words.He tried to open his mouth to speak, but he was suddenly met with a violent cough, feeling how dry his throat was. Instantly, the cowboy was by his side, holding a glass of water with a straw as he sat down close to him. “Whoa there, you’ve been out for a couple months, slow down.” He meekly nodded to the cowboy, sipping at the water hesitantly as he kept flicking his gaze between the man and the woman.He leaned back once he was finished, clearing his throat as he looked nervously to the pair who were all smiles. “I… I am sorry, but do I know you?”
Relationships: Jesse McCree/Hanzo Shimada
Comments: 13
Kudos: 244





	But Tonight, I Still Dream of You

He woke up to the sound of beeping, brown eyes flickering open before promptly snapping back shut at the harsh light of the room. A groan left his mouth at the sudden headache it brought, faintly hearing a chair screech across the floor before some man was yelling for an ‘Angie’, the sound of something clinking with each step just making the headache worse.

In the time it took for the man and this ‘Angie’ to return, he had managed to sit up, still letting out soft winces as he rubbed his bandaged head and surveyed the room.

It was clearly supposed to mimic a hospital room, but it lacked any windows he had seen in a normal facility. Or, well, what he _supposed_ a normal hospital would look like, he suddenly couldn’t recall if he _had_ been to a hospital or not. That wasn’t the only confusing part, he couldn’t remember why he was here in the first place. He _felt_ sore and his head was wrapped up, sure, but that didn’t explain what had happened or how he got here.

Never mind the how, where, or what of this situation, _who_ was he?

“Thank the lord above yer alright, darlin’, gave us a fuckin’ scare.” He startled slightly as he turned and looked to the man and woman as they entered the room. The man was tall and had darker skin, freckles spanning across the bridge of his nose and cheeks, whiskey-brown eyes looking worn but relieved. His hair was disheveled and he wore a red and gold blanket around his shoulders, and the annoying clinking was coming from the ridiculously looking cowboy and the spurs on his boots. The only thing he was missing was— ah, nope, there was the hat as he drew it up from his side and placed it on his head.

The woman looked more modern; she wore a black turtleneck under a white lab coat, sleeves rolled up to her elbows, her blonde hair was drawn up into a French twist and she had a thin framed pair of glasses resting on her nose.

“Welcome back to the land of the living.” Her voice was kind but her smile was strained, an accent he couldn’t pick up laced in her words. The cowboy had a southern drawl that clashed horribly with hers, perhaps the cowboy had found him and brought him here?

Where even was ‘here’?

He tried to open his mouth to speak, but he was suddenly met with a violent cough, feeling how dry his throat was. Instantly, the cowboy was by his side, holding a glass of water with a straw as he sat down close to him. “Whoa there, you’ve been out for a couple months, slow down.” He meekly nodded to the cowboy, sipping at the water hesitantly as he kept flicking his gaze between the man and the woman.

He leaned back once he was finished, clearing his throat as he looked nervously to the pair who were all smiles. “I… I am sorry, but do I know you?” Instantly the smiles dropped, his stomach beginning to roll uneasily.

“What’cha mean—”

“Do you know who you are or where you are?” The doctor asked, interrupting the cowboy as she moved to grab the clipboard at the end of his bed, retrieving a pen from the breast pocket of the lab coat

He hesitated but shook his head.

The woman bit her lip, tapping her pen to the clipboard. “Mein gott, this isn’t what I expected.” She paused, eyes darting between the two men. “Do you remember _anything_?”

Another shake of his head before she scribbled something down.

“Ah, McCree, could you, um, go get Mr. Shimada for me?” The cowboy—McCree—gave a nod, he had a blank expression on his face as he stood and nearly stumbled out of the room.

Once the door was shut, the woman continued on in a soft voice, like she was talking to a child. “My name is Angela Ziegler, I run my own medical facility here with some other doctors. The man who just left is Jesse McCree, he’s a close friend of mine and has a heart of gold.” He wasn’t sure how correct she was about her companion, but Doctor Ziegler herself seemed kind enough that he didn’t feel like he was in any danger. Not that he had a reason to suspect he was in danger…? He didn’t know why that was something his mind would gravitate towards.

He paused, eyes glancing down to the clipboard before looking back up to the doctor. “I suppose you have my name?”

Doctor Ziegler gave a tense nod, but refused to pass the clipboard over. “Yes, your first name is Hattori,” she paused, “and your surname is Hanzo.”

“Hattori Hanzo,” he repeated, rolling the name around his mouth a few more times. It fit well enough, Hattori supposed. There was the inkling of thought that she could have been lying, but she didn’t seem like she would be good at it or had a reason to.

Before the conversation could progress any further, McCree returned with a shorter man, faded green hair poking out from the top of his head, wearing a bright green hoodie and black sweatpants. Hattori didn’t mean to stare, but he couldn’t peel his eyes away from the man’s face; jagged scars crossed over his pale skin, his bottom jaw a dark and unnatural grey.

He must have looked more shocked than he felt, McCree clearing his throat as the new man awkwardly shuffled to turn his face away as best he could. “Ah, my brother and I had a,” the man paused, lips pursed together as he glanced to Hattori. “We had a _disagreement_ over some things.”

“I certainly hope you did the same back to him.” Hattori didn’t understand why McCree tensed up, or why the doctor moved towards the new man defensively, or why the shorter man looked like a deer caught in the headlights, brown eyes staring owlishly at Hattori.

Suddenly, the green haired man burst out laughing, doubling over as he clutched his stomach. “I-I’ll be sure to do that when he c-comes back.” He wiped at the tears in his eyes, one hand covering his mouth to try and stifle his giggles as Doctor Ziegler cleared her throat.

“Hattori, this is Genji Shimada, he’ll be helping you for the next while as we try and recover your memories. Jesse will also be there to help, these two knew you the best.”

Hattori looked between the two men, figuring he’d rather spend his time with Genji than the cowboy. Something about the scarred man felt familiar, but the vibes he was getting from McCree made his stomach twist uneasily, unable to pinpoint the reason as to why.

.:.

Hattori sat quietly with McCree and Genji in the small kitchen, apparently this was where all the food was cooked, prepared, and stored since the base was so small. It was still rather startling to find out he was hidden in a defunct military base, but mostly everyone was nice, except when he caught looks of pity or even _anger_ directed towards himself.

Hana was all smiles and snark until she thought Hattori wasn’t looking. Lúcio seemed to tiptoe around him. Mei was shy and flustered, often just avoiding him altogether. Fareeha seldom spoke to him when she happened to be on base, often giving Hattori the cold shoulder as she looked away. Jack wouldn’t even _look_ at him. Torbjörn and Reinhardt kept their distance, the latter giving apologetic looks. Lena did her best to show him things that could ‘spark’ his memory, Hattori feeling coddled with her methods. Winston was similar to Lúcio, just tiptoeing and vanishing as quickly as he could from the conversation. Brigitte tried to interact with him often, but Hattori just pushed her away as he felt himself get more anxious of his lost memories.

The only people he truly felt sane with was with the Russian weightlifter Zarya, the old sniper Ana, and the omnic monk Zenyatta.

Zarya didn’t seem to care he had no memories, she only cared that he was working out and keeping his body in shape while he found himself. Ana spent her time with him reading and drinking tea, sharing small stories of the others with him, ranging from heroics of the old days to embarrassing tales of Fareeha and McCree that left Hattori blue in the face from laughter. Zenyatta acted as a therapist under Genji’s rather eager suggestion, listening to Hattori vent about his feelings of being lost in his own mind, how some things felt familiar but _just_ out of reach. The way Genji tipped his head back when he laughed, when McCree played with the unlit cigarillo in his mouth while he was deep in thought, the way Hana stuck out her tongue when she was being teased, Reinhardt’s loud posturing and need to show off.

It all felt familiar but he couldn’t _place_ it.

“I ain’t no chef, but my pancakes are t’die for.” Hattori was pulled from his thoughts as McCree set the large stack down in the middle of the table, blanket (which he learned was actually called a serape) gone along with the rest of the cowboy getup, instead replaced with a white t-shirt and plaid pyjama pants.

Food had been Lena’s suggestion with what to try with Hattori next, telling McCree and Genji to feed him his favourites, to try and spark something. He thought it was stupid, but the other two men just shrugged, Hattori suspecting they agreed just to appease her.

Genji reached with his fork to the pancakes, eyes lighting up in delight as he pulled off the top three. “He’s lying, he’s the only one here who can cook and he doesn’t even bother feeding us.” Genji himself wore a short sleeved black shirt with matching black shorts, Hattori feeling confused the cyborg hadn’t wished to cover up more after Hattori’s initial reaction just under a month ago.

“I highly doubt that; Ana makes wonderful tea, and Mei cooks for Zarya all the time.” Hattori took two pancakes in a less rushed manor, quietly thanking Genji as he passed the syrup.

McCree let out a loud snort as he sat down on Hattori’s other side, grinning from ear to ear. “Ana can’t cook for _shit_ , MRE’s taste better than whatever she can cook up. ‘Sides, tea’s just leaf water, can’t fuck that up.”

“On the contrary, my father could _never_ steep tea correctly, it’s definitely an art.” Genji’s voice was relaxed and teasing, but Hattori was able to catch him tensing up slightly when he brought up the subject of his father. He was unable to ask about it as Genji continued on. “And I’m sure the only reason Zarya eats her girlfriend’s cooking is because she has both no taste buds and it’s _Mei_ , you can’t say no to Mei!” McCree and Genji laughed at that, Hattori smiling softly as he cut into the pancakes.

Both of his companions seemed to hold their breath as he took a bite, Hattori half wondering if they were worried he wouldn’t like it after their harsh critiques on their friend’s cooking.

He was quick to swallow down the delightfully fluffy and sweet forkful, looking to McCree in surprise. “I must say, I did not think a man of your,” he paused as he fished for the right word, “ _caliber_ would be able to cook something like this.”

McCree gave a grin, leaning his metal arm on the table and rested his chin on his palm. “Aw shucks, that sounds like a mighty fine compliment.” Hattori gave a roll of his eyes before silently digging in, Genji and McCree sharing a look behind Hattori before they too dug in.

.:.

“Okay, so this is the training range, I set up some weapons we all use, and some extras. Find one you like, maybe it’ll bring back memories!” Lena was more chipper than usual, smiling up at Hattori as she practically dragged him (as well as his two unfortunate chaperones) to the practice range.

“Lena,” McCree started with a huff, “Angie said not t’rush shit, let ‘im figure it out on his own.”

On Hattori’s other side, Genji let out a chuckle. “You know how stubborn he is; he won’t remember anything unless it’s absolutely necessary.”

“I am right here,” Hattori reminded them, scowling slightly.

Lena ducked her head down apologetically. “Sorry, luv, it’s just hard, ya’know?”

“Tell me about it.” He said dryly, Genji letting out a giggle while McCree snorted. “Fine, show me these weapons.”

The little pilot bounced right back, grinning up at Hattori and she grabbed his hand and brought him over to the weapons rack.

The little area had plenty of guns to choose from; some looking to be, what he assumed was, more ‘standard issued’ than personal. There were quite a few handguns and rifles, one of the guns he recognized as McCree’s. _Lena must have grabbed every gun on base_ , he mused to himself.

Some of the other weapons seemed more unconventional, like the large hammer that rested against the table or the shurikens, but what caught his eye the most was the gorgeous bow, a dark steel blue that had an industrial finished look to it. The bow string was a light blue in colour, almost looking semi-transparent, perhaps it was made of some sort of flexible hardlight? He would need to ask Satya about that next time she visited Fareeha.

The limbs looked strong and sturdy, the shelf and arrow rest looking to be well taken care of. Even the arrows looked to be worn but taken care of, none of the fletching damaged and the arrow heads looked polished. Whoever’s weapon of choice this was, they clearly loved it, maybe even more than McCree loved Peacekeeper.

“So…?” Lena asked, scooting in beside him with big hopeful eyes. “See anything that catches your fancy?”

Hattori glanced away from the bow to Lena before looking back down again. “The bow looks nice,” he admitted, “but who would use such an archaic weapon when their enemies have automatic rifles?”

He glanced back to find the other three staring at him, clearly surprised, before Genji broke into a wide grin and covered his mouth, unable to hold back a snort that devolved into full blown hysterical laughter.

McCree wasn’t too far behind him, tipping his hat down but unable to shield his grinning face entirely from Hattori.

Lena just looked confused.

“That… that wasn’t the reaction I was expecting.” She mumbled, rubbing her lower arm awkwardly.

It suddenly clicked. “Oh, _I_ used this.”

Genji folded in half as he laughed harder, clutching his stomach with both arms.

Hattori felt his cheeks heat up with embarrassment, refusing to admit he was pouting as he looked back to the weapons. “How was I to know?!” He snapped, growing more frustrated as Genji’s laugh echoed around the room. “It is not as if I have my memories!”

An arm easily slung itself around his shoulders, glancing up to find McCree at his side with a little smirk still playing on his lips. “Don’t ya worry ‘bout that, darlin’. We’ve just been sayin’ similar things for a while, was kinda funny hearin’ it come outta yer mouth though.”

Hattori’s embarrassment didn’t completely go away, but McCree’s words helped soothe some of ire on the subject, though he wasn’t entirely sure why.

“Wanna try shootin’ it?” McCree asked, moving to pick up his beloved revolver.

Hattori let out a huff. “Clearly I am proficient with it.” He muttered, but picked up the bow as well as the quiver. He couldn’t help the growing hole opening up in his chest when he held the elegant weapon, unable to spark any memories or feelings despite knowing it was _his_.

Genji, still snickering and wiping his tears of laughter from his eyes, grabbed the three shurikens from the table and a katana from the rack and followed them, the shurikens sliding into a panel in his arm and the blade into its sheath on his back.

The katana, for some reason he couldn’t explain, made Hattori’s stomach roll. He forced himself to look away as he took up position beside McCree, nocking an arrow as McCree thumbed down the hammer.

“Most hits wins?” McCree asked, a tiny grin on his face.

Hattori smirked right back, katana forgotten as he pulled back on the bow string. “I hope you are ready to lose, cowboy.”

.:.

Always as puzzling as it had been the first time he got to sleep in his own room, Hattori stayed completely still as he stared at his tattooed arm, watching as the colours almost seemed to roll under his skin. He could taste something metallic in his mouth, reminding him of that one article he read about the moment before lightning struck.

Hattori paused, when did he read that? He had been stuck with whatever mangas Genji had or any homoerotic cowboy novel McCree shoved into his arms like some smug child.

With a small shake of his head, Hattori closed his eyes tight, listening for the whisper of words that would tickle his ears, soothingly glide over his mind, encasing his heart. He could never hear what the voices were saying, always too distant or too muffled, and he refused to speak with Doctor Ziegler about them encase she thought there was more wrong with him and demand he get more tests done.

He thought about asking Genji or McCree, they were supposedly his best friends and they must have known, but it didn’t feel okay to ask. Not that he thought it was a forbidden topic, but he felt that the man he was before… _whatever_ happened wouldn’t have wanted anyone to know, at least not without trying to figure it out himself first. He wasn’t sure why he believed this to be true, but asking for help felt wrong for some reason or another.

With that thought in mind, Hattori opened his eyes again to see the colour fade away, the intensity gone. The moment was over as fast as it had begun with no more information than what he started with.

Letting out a heavy sigh, he flopped back onto his bed, arms splayed out and hair haloing around his head. “What have I done to deserve this?” Hattori muttered, figuring he must of killed someone dear to him in a past life for the amount of bad karma he was receiving.

The thought once again twisted his stomach into knots, causing him to let out a heavy sigh and crawl up to rest his head on his pillow. It felt wrong to sleep with the prosthetics still on, but he didn’t have the faintest clue how to detach them, and he wasn’t ready to willingly go to bed defenseless anyways.

Hattori let out another heavy sigh, pulling his blankets up and rolled onto his stomach with his arms under his pillow, falling into another restless sleep.

.:.

_Thunk._

_ Thunk. _

_Whoosh, clatter._

“Kuso.”

_ Whoosh, clatter. _

_ Whoosh, whoosh, whoosh. _

_ Clatter, clatter, clatter. _

Hattori let out a hiss, raising his arm up to throw the bow on the ground before he stopped himself. Who knew how much he had spent on this bow, and he wasn’t a child who threw temper tantrums when something didn’t go his way.

As gently as his anger would let him, Hattori set his bow firmly on the ground before walking out into the range to get his seven arrows, glaring at all the ones that had gone too wide or too short.

It had been a few weeks after figuring out he used a bow and he was still beyond embarrassed that, while muscle memory had helped him draw at full strength, he apparently no longer knew how to judge distance and had lost horribly to McCree. 

By the time McCree figured out Hattori was unable to properly play their game, it had been too late to throw it and McCree looked upset for the rest of the day.

“Two outta seven ain’t bad.” Hattori spun around, feeling his cheeks turn a dark shade of red without even having to look, as he saw McCree leaning against a wall that had been too far forward for Hattori to have seen him before shooting. “30%’s not half bad for someone who can’t remember anythin’!”

Hattori rolled his eyes, moving to grab the two that had hit the target, but nowhere near the centre. “You are being generous, it is 28.57%.” He paused for only a second, wondering what kind of man he was before that he could do calculations like that in his head, calculating decimals to the thousandths without any assistance.

McCree pushed himself off from the wall, pressing the end of his lit cigarillo to his metal arm before shoving it away into one of his many pockets on his belt. “Better than zero. ‘Sides, not a big enough sample size t’count.”

He rolled his eyes again, listening as McCree kept walking over. “Y’know, you could ask Genji for help, he’s told me he’s dabbled in bows before.” Hattori let out a huff.

“And make myself look like a bigger fool than I already have? Thank you, but I will pass.” He ground his teeth together, trying to calm himself as best as he could. McCree didn’t deserve his anger for something he hadn’t done.

“Say, let’s forget ‘bout bows for a hot second.” Hattori glanced back at McCree, watching as he stooped down to grab one of the arrows, beginning to twirl it around in his flesh hand. “Genji said that a sushi shop just opened on the mainland, we’re wonderin’ if ya wanted t’join us.”

Hattori was quiet for a moment, trying to recall if he even liked sushi. He _mus_ t have, wasn’t it a Japanese staple? Genji had ‘let slip’ they had both been born in Japan, without a doubt he would have had all their different dishes, and so far he didn’t seem to be a picky eater. He even enjoyed most of Mei’s cooking when Zarya had offered a bite here and there.

Instead of asking McCree if he knew his taste buds, he phrased his worries differently, putting it back on McCree. “I have a hard time believing _you_ , of all people, enjoy sushi.”

McCree shrugged. “California rolls ain’t bad, and sometimes I swipe the spicier ones off Genji’s plate, but we usually just share a big ol’ plate of rolls and I pick at ‘em.”

Hattori felt like McCree was giving him an out, it was like he _knew_ Hattori was unsure if he liked sushi. “Fine, let us go then.” McCree suddenly grinned, quick to drape an arm around Hattori’s shoulders as he lead him back over to the bow to clean and put away.

.:.

Quietly, without either of his chaperones, Hattori made his way down to Torbjörn’s workshop. Genji and McCree had kept him, more or less, in the same wings and rooms after he had woken up. He wanted to explore the base, try and spark his own memories.

Lena would be so proud of him.

As he neared the open door, with the heavy scent of oil and metal wafting through, he heard a string of curses followed by two laughing voices. “Brigitte, if your damn cat jumps on me again—”

“Come on, papa, Oskar was just trying to jump down from the mech.” Brigitte teased, Hattori peeking around the corner to see the young mechanic pick up a black cat, holding it close to her chest.

Torbjörn let out a huff. “I’m not a footstool!”

“You could’ve fooled me!” Reinhardt chimed in, both he and Brigitte letting out another series of loud laughs as Torbjörn rolled his eyes and let out a sigh.

Most likely due to how loud they were being, Oskar wiggled free of Brigitte and padded towards the open door. Hattori was mildly surprised the mechanics didn’t seem too worried for their cat as he made his way to the exit of the room to, without a doubt, find somewhere more quiet. He couldn’t recall seeing the feline before, but then again, he wasn’t particularly looking and it wasn’t like McCree or Genji were all too quiet themselves.

The cat stopped in front of him, suddenly rubbing up again Hattori’s leg as it let out a loud purr. Hattori couldn’t help himself as he crouched down, scratching the cat under the chin with a small smile on his face.

“Oh, hello Hattori.” He glanced up at his name as it came from Brigitte, finding the three other people in the room watching him closely. He felt his cheeks heat up as he cleared his throat and stood up stiffly, keeping his eyes off Oskar though the cat resumed rubbing against his legs.

“Something you needed?” Torbjörn asked, now standing between his daughter and friend.

Hattori was quiet for a moment, feeling his embarrassment trying to take over and drown him. “Ah, no, not really.” At their silence, he forced himself to bumble on, pride be damned. “I do not think I have spent a single day without McCree or Genji, I wanted to tour the base myself.”

At once, all three seemed to relax, Brigitte smiling at him as she waved him in. “Well don’t be a stranger then, we’re just fixing up Hana’s mech, come on in.” Hattori glanced to Torbjörn, silently asking permission, and the old mechanic shrugged as he turned back to the pink mech.

Hattori glanced down at Oskar, seeing those amber eyes looking up at him expectantly and blocking his way in.

With an endearing sigh, he bent down and scooped the cat up into his arms, Oskar’s purring starting up again at a thunderous volume as he nuzzled into Hattori’s beard. He couldn’t stop the faint smile that tugged on his lips as he made his way in, ignoring Brigitte and Reinhardt sharing a smirk.

“So,” Hattori started, wishing to break the silence for once. “What exactly are you fixing?”

Torbjörn glanced back with almost a surprised look, but quickly returned to his usual disinterested demeanor. “Apparently there’s some screw loose.” He let out a huff. “I still think we should convince _her_ mechanic to come over, I’m tired of fixing this hunk of scrap up just for her to blow it to pieces!”

“You know she only self destructs if she _absolutely_ has to, papa.” Brigitte turned to Hattori, shielding her mouth from her father. “He likes being dramatic about his projects.” She grinned at Hattori and he smirked back, both turning to the lead mechanic as he let out a huff.

“I’m short, not deaf!”

“Could have fooled me, old friend.” Reinhardt teased.

Torbjörn turned and pointed an accusing wrench at Reinhardt, scowling slightly. “Who’s side are you on?”

Reinhardt gave him a large grin, arms crossing over his chest. “The one currently winning.” Brigitte let out a laugh, Hattori raising a hand to shield his own smile.

The old mechanic let out a huff, giving all three of them a dismissive wave. “I should’ve brought the damn robot, they keep better company than you bunch.”

Hattori quirked up an eyebrow as he leaned up against one of the many counters, his hand stroking down Oskar’s spine. “Robot?” He asked, seeing Reinhardt and Torbjörn share a look.

Torbjörn was quiet for a long moment before nodding. “Yeah, found this old Bastion unit, the poor thing seems to have a few screws loose. First time I’ve ever seen something peaceful from the Omnic Crisis.” Reinhardt nodded in agreement as Torbjörn continued. “Give that thing a few seeds and a garden and they’re as happy as a flea in a doghouse,” he paused, “they’re not half bad at this kind of work either.”

Brigitte gave a small grin as she hopped up on the counter beside Hattori, sitting down and crossing one ankle over the other. “Well, _after_ you asked Zen to translate, they weren’t half bad at the job.” Torbjörn once again waved her off, turning to start fiddling with the mech.

Hattori sat there in silence for a long time, listening to the three of them banter back and forth, telling jokes and old stories. But it was comforting, just simply being able to listen and not be the focus of anything. He could just sit there, petting Oskar, laughing when appropriate, and they didn’t ask for anymore from him. They didn’t expect his mind to instantly come back, they didn’t try and pry into his head and push in memories.

“Oh, papa!” Brigitte started, suddenly hopping off the counter as she hurried over to a large drawing board. “I got the new blueprint for Angela’s armour finished, I even got a mockup of the contacts she wanted, but I’ll need to go over that with Winston and Satya when I have it more finalized.” Torbjörn let out a grunt that he heard, glancing over as Brigitte brought the plans over.

Hattori’s curiosity got the better of him again, speaking up for the first time in over an hour. “You personally do all the upgrading for the team?” He asked, suddenly feeling self conscious as Brigitte and Torbjörn looked over.

“‘Couse,” Torbjörn started, “I mean, we’re operating in an illegal base for an illegal cause with illegal agents re-establishing themselves. Can’t rightly go to any old mechanic and ask for arms, legs, armour, or parts.” _Legs_ , he could finally learn how to disconnect the damn things.

“Is there blueprints for my legs?” He asked, Brigitte and Torbjörn’s eyes seeming to light up.

Brigitte was quick to nod, smiling slightly as Doctor Zielger’s armour was entirely forgotten. “Yes, actually. I have the current pair’s blueprints as well as a new design I came up with.” She suddenly seemed shy, but hurried back to her workbench and shuffled through dozens of papers until she pulled out one that was tightly rolled up. “Before you bopped your head, you wanted nothing to do with the new design, but I kept them encase I could figure out a way to persuade you.” She unrolled the plans and handed them towards Hattori.

He was quick to set Oskar down, though he seemed less than pleased to be shoved aside for _paper_. Hattori mentally told himself he would make it up to the cat later as he grabbed the plans and opened them, looking over the design that looked much more sleek and much more refined than his current pair that had seen better days.

“This version has the same connector ports as your current pair, but I also have an alternate version that makes your ports more simplified, so rather than connecting several wires and latches, it should just click in with a twist like McCree’s arm.” Hattori was fascinated, reading over all the notes she had written down along the sides, surprised he understood what most of the notes were. He didn’t think he would’ve known anything about engineering or mechanics, but here he was.

“This is amazing, but having a simple port, would it not make it much easier to be compromised by an enemy? There should be a hidden latch around here,” he circled with his finger to just below the inside of the knee, “that acts as a lock.”

At once, both Torbjörn and Brigitte looked like children at Christmas as they suddenly herded Hattori over to their workbench, showing him all sorts of designs they had come up with, not only his own legs, but almost every set of prosthetics and armour on base. They asked him his opinion on different designs and mechanisms, asking what seemed more practical, what seemed far too outlandish to work.

Their conversation was broken two hours later by three pings, Reinhardt, Brigitte, and Torbjörn all checking their comms. “Looky here, says you’re missing.” Torbjörn glanced up to Hattori, the younger one glancing down at his feet. He wasn’t ready for his fun to come to an end, he didn’t want to go back to being babysat.

“Well,” Reinhardt started, a cheeky grin on his face. “I didn’t hear my communicator go off, I was too busy listening to your excellent explanation on,” he paused, “err, mechanic stuff?”

Hattori’s eyes brightened, glancing up to the giant of a man. “Yes,” Brigitte chimed in, Hattori turning to look at her. “I’m too deep into going over my notes to have heard such a quiet noise go off.”

All three turned and looked at Torbjörn expectantly, the old man just shrugging. “I just don’t like looking at the damn thing.” Hattori let out a snort while the other two barked out laughs.

All four of them went back to what they were doing before the notification, though Reinhardt was just smiling and nodding along as if he understood all the jargon they were speaking, polishing some part of his armour.

It was only half an hour later when a _very_ pissed off cowboy stormed into the shop, the cyborg ninja right behind him who didn’t look any happier. “What in the ever lovin’ _fuck_ do ya think yer doin’?!” McCree spat, Hattori never seeing him so _angry_ before.

“Talking to the mechanics, I was curious about their work.” He kept his voice even, unwilling to break eye contact with the cowboy.

“Didn’t ya think that’s somethin’ ya should’ve told someone?!”

“I am an adult, I can take care of myself. The only reason you two are forced to look after me is because Doctor Ziegler demanded it.”

Unable to really argue with that, McCree turned his ire to the two mechanics and crusader. “And _you_ bunch, why didn’t ya answer yer comms?!”

Making a show of it, Brigitte suddenly pulled out her comm, looking surprised. “Oh, I didn’t even see the message! Sorry about that, McCree.”

He turned his gaze to Torbjörn, and the old mechanic let out a huff. “You want to contact me? Send a letter, no one can hack a letter.” Hattori felt himself roll his eyes before he could stop, but the others had seemed to have done the same.

McCree finally seemed to calm down, still agitated, but much more relaxed than before. “Whatever, just don’t do that again, if there’s an attack—”

“We would’ve taken care of him,” Brigitte interrupted, “we wouldn’t have left him to fend for himself.”

“Talon—”

“Jesse,” Reinhardt interrupted, setting a large hand on his shoulder, his voice the softest Hattori had ever heard. “I know this is a difficult time for you, but none of us would let someone grab him. He is safe within these walls by everyone living here, I can promise you that.”

McCree narrowed his eyes, body tense, but eventually let out a heavy sigh, hanging his head. “Sorry, don’t know what came over me.”

Hattori glanced over to Genji, finding the cyborg already relaxed, hands in his pant pockets as he watched and remained silent.

Everything was quiet for a long minute before Hattori cleared his throat, breaking the silence as all eyes turned to him. “McCree, you said you wanted to take me to another restaurant on the mainland?” He hoped the cowboy could recognize an out when he heard one, feeling bad that he had put McCree through the wringer.

The cowboy nodded, pulling away from the large German man. “Right, wanna join us, Genji?” The youngest one of the three nodded, Hattori relieved to have righted the situation as best as he could.

He turned to Brigitte, Torbjörn, and Reinhardt, bowing deeply. “Thank you for tolerating me this afternoon, it has been an enjoyable experience.”

Torbjörn, of all people, gave a small grin. “You’re one of the few kids around here I can tolerate.” Hattori let out a snort at that, but was quick to exchange goodbyes as he, Genji, and McCree left to go eat.

.:.

Hattori opened his mouth to announce himself, but paused just around the corner, out of sight as he heard McCree stomping around the kitchen. “This ain’t fair, it’s _literal_ torture, Zen, how am I supposed t’look at him ’ery day, and all he sees is a _stranger!?_ ”

The omnic let out a soft hum, Hattori pressing himself against the wall as he continued to listen in. He knew it was probably morally wrong, but this was the first time he had ever heard the cowboy sound anything but content, well, beside the mechanic’s workshop incident, but that was different despite being the cause of that as well.

“Jesse, please try to think of what Hanzo is going through, he doesn’t remember anything. This is all new and scary for him, just like the first time he arrived here with Genji.” Hattori knitted his eyebrows together in confusion as he heard Zenyatta refer to him as his last name for the first time. Usually it came from the others, mostly McCree, sometimes Genji though the cyborg would instantly correct himself. But he had never heard ‘Hanzo’ come from the omnic until now. Maybe Zenyatta was trying to make McCree more comfortable?

The short silence was broken by the omnic as he continued on. “What did you do to, as you put it, ‘break the ice’ the first time around?”

McCree let out a heavy sigh, but the sound of his spurs silenced as he came to a stop. “I just treated ‘im like any other person on base, spent time wit’ him.” Hattori couldn’t handle it anymore.

He quietly rounded the corner, not daring to look up at the cowboy or monk as he nervously rung the bottom of his shirt. “Were we close?” He asked quietly, peeking up to see McCree with a startled look.

The cowboy looked to Zenyatta before looking back to Hattori, pulling off his hat with his mechanical arm and running his flesh fingers through his hair. Hattori briefly wondered what they would feel like running through his own hair before shoving the thought away. He wasn’t blind, he had seen the ring on the man’s ring finger despite McCree’s need to try and shield Hattori from it.

“Thick as thieves.” McCree confirmed.

“I am sorry I do not remember.”

“It ain’t your fault, darlin’.”

“I feel as if it is.”

Both men fell silent for a long minute, Zenyatta breaking the silence as he seemed to perk up slightly. “Jesse, why don’t you and Hattori go to your spot? Perhaps it will bring back some memories.”

McCree’s lit up at the suggestion, turning to the omnic with a grin. “Christ, why didn’t _I_ think of that? Good work Zen!”

Hattori was suddenly pulled out of the room, blinking in surprise as McCree lead him through the base down to their wing. “Hold up, can’t go to our spot without some good ol’ company.” McCree then ducked into his room, the door sliding shut behind him.

Company? Would Genji be joining them then? Maybe he could ask if Ana could join them as well, she had just gotten back from some mission and Hattori had been itching to ask her all sorts of questions about Egypt.

McCree returned shortly with two tumblers and a drinking gourd, Hattori frowning slightly. “Ah, our ‘company’ is alcohol.”

McCree’s smile faltered slightly, but he seemed undeterred as his door slid back shut. “What, ya thought anyone but us is allowed up in our spot? You’d’ve killed me if I invited anyone else.”

Hattori literally couldn’t argue since he couldn’t remember, but he gave a nod anyways, McCree perking right back up. “Right, let’s go then!”

The cowboy lead them through a maze of stairwells and corridors, turning this way and that, and Hattori was unsure if he could find his way back if he needed to. “Ya usually just climb up t’wall,” McCree peppered in to break the silence, “but I can’t do that shit, so yer stuck with me.” McCree teased, Hattori unable to see himself able to scale a _wall_ but remained silent.

They came to a stop at a secluded part of the base, up on a balcony of sorts with a wide overhang, McCree growing more excited as he picked up the pace. 

The cowboy vanished around a corner, and as Hattori picked up the pace to follow him, he let out a muted gasp as McCree grinned widely at him and pressed the toe of his boot down on an old age power bar.

The area was lit up with string lights, a few pillows and blankets that looked comfy but had seen better days were settled against the building, giving the person seated enough room to stretch out their legs without falling off the edge. There were a few street signs as well; a stop and yield sign, a sign that read ‘Gay Street’, a distance sign with ‘Mile 419.9’, and a few other odds and ends that Hattori had no idea where McCree could have gotten them from.

“This… this is—”

“Horribly cheesy?” McCree guessed, his eyes as bright as ever. Hattori’s stomach rolled.

“Where did you even get half of this?”

“Swiped up Gay Street from New York, got Mile 419.9 from Washington, and the stop ‘n’ yield ain’t too hard to get, but they’re from some little shithole in Canada. The lights were a Walmart thing, lets us stay out longer once the sun went down. Genji’s idea, not mine. Heard us whinin’ ‘bout it somethin’ fierce."

Hattori looked around the small area again, trying to recall anything McCree had said, even just an inkling of ‘yes, we did that,’ but his mind was coming up blank. He had no idea how close he and McCree used to be, and all of this began to feel too... too _intimate_.

“Everythin’ a’ight, darlin’?” He glanced back to the cowboy, now standing much closer with a look of worry written across his face.

“This feels,” Hattori paused, unsure of how to continue without hurting his feelings.

McCree’s shoulders seemed to sink further, Hattori briefly comparing him to a kicked puppy. “Ya don’t remember.” Hattori nodded in agreement. “This must feel mighty weird then, don’t it?” Another nod, though this one was smaller.

McCree was silent for a moment before dipping his head, much more mutedly walking over to the power bar and toed it off. “McCree—”

“Don’t ya worry ‘bout me, darlin’, let’s get ya back inside.” As McCree passed, Hattori was able to see a wet streak down his cheek, but the cowboy continued on without another word.

.:.

“Genji?” Hattori started, staring down at his nearly full bubble tea in heavy silence and contemplation up until that moment. The night with McCree was still fresh in his mind despite happening a couple weeks ago, and instead of being a reasonable adult, McCree left babysitting Hattori to Genji and refused to talk to him.

The cyborg in question glanced up from his phone, his drink long since gone. “What’s on your mind?”

Where did he start?

“McCree is married, yes?” He glanced up in time to see Genji tense up.

“Well, yes and no, it’s complicated.”

Gods above, was his theory right then? “Tell me, and I wish to hear the truth,” Genji gave a nervous nod, “was McCree cheating on his partner with me?” He couldn’t explain how _close_ McCree acted with him, he couldn’t explain the way the cowboy’s eyes lingered on him longer than they should, all the pet names that seemed exclusive to Hattori. At the very least, McCree lusted after Hattori, but he couldn’t help but notice his own eyes straying to McCree more often than not, like he was naturally drawn in.

“Angela said not to touch these types of subjects.” Genji mumbled out after a minute, awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck. “We’re not supposed to drop huge bombshells on you, but I can promise that McCree is the most faithful man I know, he would _never_ cheat on his partner.” It did little to ease Hattori’s mind, but at least he could go to bed without feeling like some dirty little secret.

Letting out a heavy sigh, Hattori leaned back in his chair, arms crossed over his chest as he switched subjects. “I still do not understand her rule, what purpose does it serve to keep me in the dark?”

The cyborg shrugged, seeming more comfortable as they left McCree territory. “She’s the doctor, not me. Though she’s more a general doctor than a specialist, she’s told me the mind’s a stupidly fragile thing, she’s worried that if she tries to trigger anything that you’ll completely shut down.”

“Is that true?”

“Like I said, I’m not a doctor, but I trust her,” to prove his point, his wiggled the fingers on his left hand, showing off the silver wedding ring. “If she says it could fuck you up more, then I believe her. It’s not like we can just take you to a specialist, not even Angela could pull that many strings.”

Hattori was quiet for a moment, mulling over Genji’s words as he kept his eyes down to his drink. “Was I a bad person?” He asked quietly.

The cyborg was quiet for a long moment, most likely trying to decide what was too much, when he finally spoke just as quietly. “You did bad things in the past, but 13 years ago was your tipping point.” Genji bit at his bottom lip, glancing away. “You hurt someone close to you, and from how I heard it, you went insane with guilt which made you leave the comforts of an easy life to repent for what you did.

“You joined us three years ago, and you’ve made such amazing progress. The person who you were was so vastly different than the person you are now.”

“But my reputation of _who_ I was still lingers, yes? That is why we cannot see a specialist.”

“I’m not gonna sugarcoat it; yeah, you were a damn bastard before. I’m sure some people still think you are, but I don’t care about that.” Genji paused, tipping his head down as he let out a small sigh. “I trust Angela’s judgment, and as much as I wish she could try something, _anything_ , I don’t want to lose you.

“I’d rather have Hattori Hanzo than whatever else you would’ve become; a husk or otherwise.” Genji glanced down at his empty cup for a moment, chewing on his bottom lip, before glancing back up. “You’re like a brother to me, Hattori, and I don’t want to lose you anymore than I already have."

There was some hidden meaning behind his words, Hattori was sure of it, but he was touched to be regarded so highly that he swept the deeper meaning under the carpet. “I am truly sorry I do not remember you, but I will do my best to make it up to you and McCree.”

.:.

The wood was hard beneath his knees, hands resting on his lap as he bowed his head. Faceless men glared at him from their seats around a long and short table, dressed in deep reds and blues. “Do as you’re told, Hanzo; you must kill him to restore honour to our family.”

He felt his chest tighten, no, he couldn’t, he _wouldn’t_ do that!

“I-I cannot, he is irresponsible, yes, but that does not mean he must _die!_ ”

One of the men stood, pointing a long and spindly finger to Hanzo. “He is a stain upon the family, he will drag you down with him, he will single handedly destroy what your father has built.”

The other men rose, their voices ringing around his head as they spoke as one. “To restore honour to the clan, you must kill G—”

Hattori woke up with a shriek, sitting bolt upright as his heart threatened to break out from his chest. He was soaked with sweat, his sleepwear not having a single dry spot and his bedding was nearly there as well.

It was the same damn dream since he woke up a year ago, and that meant—

On cue, the pins and needles danced along his arm with the tattoo, a mild smell of burning flesh accompanying the feeling. “Please!” He wailed, curling in on himself as he held his arm to his chest.

He _hated_ this part, the ache would sharply turn into millions of little pin pricks, as if he was getting the tattoo all over again. It was like something was trying to crawl up and out of his arm, relentless every time he had that one specific nightmare.

Thankfully, he only seemed to have this particular dream once a month, and by the time he genuinely thought of contacting Angela, the pain would fade and he could breathe again.

Tonight was no different, just as he was going to reach for his communicator, beg the good doctor to just cut the damn limb off, the static in his arm went away.

“Gods above,” he mumbled, pulling his knees to his chest, “why _me?_ ”

.:.

“We should take him on a mission.” Lena suggested as Hattori and Genji moved to sit down across from the pilot and cowboy, all four of them having dishes filled with their own choice of breakfast.

Genji rolled his eyes and dropped his plate of toast and oatmeal down on the table. “We’ve had this conversation, you _know_ Morrison won’t agree to it.”

“That’s why we won’t tell him!”

“How’d ya figure that’ll work out?” McCree asked as he poked at his omelet, purposely keeping his eyes off Hattori as he sat down across from him, the archer wishing he could just tell McCree he was a giant man baby without further estranging himself. At least now the cowboy would allow himself to be seen in the same room as the archer, but their conversations were limited to a ‘hello’ before McCree found someone else to talk to.

Lena seemed to beam as she was given the opportunity to explain her master plan, Hattori just rolled his eyes and dug into his bowl of granola and yogurt. “See, I _just_ got clearance to take out small teams of three for recon, so us four go but we don’t list Hattori!”

Genji gave a little grin as he leaned in. “Ah, glad to see you abusing your powers so soon after acquiring them.”

“It ain’t half bad plan,” McCree interrupted, “‘cept he don’t got the same mind as before, he won’t know what t’do.”

“Or,” Hattori started, sending a muted glare to McCree. “How about we _ask_ the man in question if he wishes to even be involved with this horrendously stupid plan, hm?” McCree tipped his head down in what Hattori recognized as embarrassment, though he wasn’t quite sure how he knew that other than a gut feeling.

He suddenly had an idea, if McCree was fighting so hard to keep Hattori on base, he undoubtedly wouldn’t let the archer go out on his own.

A chance to talk, then. He would be forced to stay by Hattori’s side, forced to talk and unable to run away.

“Lena,” he started, turning to the pilot as she sat up straighter. “I would be honoured to accompany you on a mission.”

“Oh thank fuck,” Genji gave a stupid little grin. “I’m so bored from sitting on base all the time.”

“No way, ya ain’t goin’ out.” Hattori turned his gaze to McCree, finding a dangerous fire in the whiskey-brown eyes, any semblance of embarrassment dead and gone.

Hattori narrowed his eyes as he leaned in, giving the cowboy a half snarl. “You are not my father, I will do what I wish, with or without your approval.”

Nine and a half hours later had Hattori ducking down behind a cement barricade as guns fired off in his general direction.

He had brought a pistol instead of the bow, and he was glad for it, seeing as the weapon had long since been lost in the rubble somewhere. He was defenceless with only a basic hunting knife that had seen better days.

Genji was somewhere in the thick of it while Lena had zipped off to call for backup. None of them knew where McCree was, figuring his ear piece had been destroyed while fighting off Talon soldiers.

Fuck, Hattori was so stupid, of _course_ he should have listened to McCree, logically think about what he was doing before jumping headfirst into something he had no memories of having experience in. _Please do not let a foe find me first_.

He ducked his head down again as another wave of bullets skimmed the top of the barricade, using his arms to shield his head of the debris. It wouldn’t be long before they whittled down enough to actually hit their mark.

“Rule número uno,” startled, Hattori’s head shot up to find McCree crouching beside him looking no worse for wear, perhaps only a touch more dusty than usual. “When yer pinned, don’t ever let yer guard down. Could’ve killed ya since ya weren’t payin’ attention.”

Hattori nodded, feeling relieved he had been found. “Let’s get’cha outta here, darlin’.” He nodded again, holding back a strangled noise as McCree just stood up, aimed his gun down the corridor, yelled out ‘draw!’, and everything fell silent.

More than six shots rang out, but he wasn’t given a chance to ask as McCree sharply grabbed his hand and pulled him to his feet, unwilling to let go as they made their way through a maze of dead bodies that had just been firing at them a moment earlier.

The rest of the mission was a resounding failure, Morrison scolding them most of the way home while the rest of the rescue team—Winston, Fareeha, Zarya, Angela, and Ana—had given disapproving looks. Lena looked beside herself and remained up in the cockpit for the entire flight, Winston eventually going to quietly speak with her.

“This was so stupid,” Morrison growled for what felt like the millionth time since the dropship had taken off. “What if one of you was killed? What if _Hanzo_ was killed because you couldn’t think past your own selfish needs?”

Genji broke their silence first, standing up sharply from Angela’s side. “We thought it would help, okay!? And, obviously, it didn’t, so why don’t you lay off? I don’t see anyone else trying anything at all, it’s like none of you want him back!” The venom laced in his words shocked Hattori, watching as everyone present, besides McCree, drop their gazes away, faces softening. Even Morrison glanced away briefly though his scarred face was hidden behind the mask. “We’re sorry, _I’m_ sorry, we won’t do it again. Just please shut the fuck up, you’re not doing anyone here a favour by being a bitch about it!”

Hattori lowered his head, staring at his hands in his lap as the two seemed to get into a bigger fight, one that Hattori would happily tune out.

If anyone was to blame, it was him. He only decided to take on this suicide mission so McCree would be forced to talk with him, and they had barely any time for that between running for their lives and dodging bullets.

Hattori was startled out of his thoughts at a gentle touch to his thigh, glancing up to his side to find McCree looking at him with sad eyes as his flesh hand remained on his leg. “Reckon we should talk shit out when we get back, what’cha say?”

Hattori stared at him for a long minute, giving up on trying to figure out how McCree always seemed to know what he was thinking about, and let out a heavy sigh as he nodded. “Perhaps we should have done that in the first place.”

“Perhaps,” McCree agreed, “better late than never.” Hattori nodded in agreement as he let out a soft sigh, tipping his head back to rest on the headrest.

.:.

A blaring siren woke Hattori up from his restless sleep, rolling onto his side and lifting up his torso with one arm while the other rubbed briefly at his face. He tried to blink his eyes open as he sat up fully, swinging his legs off the side of the bed as he reached for his prosthetics. Of course the first night he chose to sleep without them was when everything went to hell.

As he grew more and more furious with the latches and wires, a banging came to his door, giving him a moment to glance up before the cowboy pushed his way in and slammed the door shut. How did he know his passcode—

“Thank god yer alright.” Almost automatically, Hattori’s hands were shoved away as McCree went about connecting the sensors and latches, Hattori watching in muted surprise as a short burst of steam hissed out of the first leg.

“How do you know—”

“I’ve told ya a million times; I’m damn near yer best friend.” Once McCree was done, the feeling in his false toes appeared as they came to rest on the floor.

The cowboy yanked him up roughly before pointing to his closet, a silent command to get dressed.

With only mild confusion, Hattori quickly walked over, slipping on pants (and had a moment to flush bright red at the thought of McCree seeing him in only underwear and a form fitting blue tank top) and, as a side thought, grabbed his bow and quiver.

When he turned back to McCree, the taller one was peeking out the door every few seconds, his flesh hand holding tightly onto Peacekeeper.

Looking at him more closely, Hattori noticed he was wearing plaid pyjama pants and he could see the long sleeves of the black shirt he was wearing under the serape, but his boots and hat were missing as well as his gaudy belt with his flashbangs. Hattori had figured this was a test run, a simulation of what to do. After their botched mission a couple weeks ago, Winston had made a comment in passing about needing to check out the old warning system in case Talon retaliated.

Hattori had half a mind to tell McCree this, but the gunslinger suddenly whipped his shooting arm up and out the door, firing at some unknown target, before slamming the door shut and turning to the archer. “You better be ready, we gotta run.” Hattori just nodded, feeling that electric current under his tattooed arm again, still not understanding the reasoning for it.

In the blink of an eye, McCree slid the door open and walked out, firing down the corridor. “ _Move_ , Hanzo!” He barked, the shorter one kicking into motion as he slipped out and stayed behind the taller one. “Go down the hall, first double door on the left, I’ll hold ‘em off!”

Suddenly and all at once, Hattori felt a chill run down his spine as everything came rushing back, threatening to drown him.

.:.

Hanzo stood up on shaky feet, gripping at his forehead in pain, only to pull his hand away soaked in blood. That wasn’t good, and neither was the ringing in his ears. Angela would certainly strangle him for being so careless. She would yell at them for shrugging off bringing a medic and force them both into bedrest for weeks like she had done with Reinhardt and Morrison when they returned from their own mission a month ago. She would undoubtedly use Genji’s murder as leverage to guilt him into staying and resting, like she usually did, and his brother would be none the wiser to it.

Things with Angela had gotten better over the past few years he had joined Overwatch, and her threats ended up being more empty than not, but when they did slip, she wouldn’t apologize or correct herself. Hanzo was fine with that, he didn’t deserve for Genji’s wife to just forgive him for what he had done, what she had brought him back from. Without a doubt, Angela would always see him at the monster who decided the clan was more important than his own brother.

He was fine with that, he was just happy that Genji had found someone to love him so unconditionally.

Looking around the ruined room, he was able to tell where the bomb had been; on the floor right above them, considering it was missing now. Most likely a motion sensor one of them had tripped as they made their way down the hall. Winston had warned them that Talon had started going to extreme measures to throw Overwatch off their trail, but this was new and had certainly alerted _someone_ of their presence in the building.

He scooped up his bow and some arrows that had slid from his quiver, quickly inspecting his legs to see only small dents and scratches. That was easy enough to fix and buff out with Torbjörn’s help, maybe he would even take a look at the blueprints Brigitte had mentioned. Regardless, there was nothing to worry about, he could still move and that was the least of his worries.

He was pulled from his thoughts as he heard a groan, snapping his head up as he looked for Jesse, his husband coming on the recon with him for backup despite Hanzo’s protests.

A couple metres away, he saw a shimmer of metal from a nearby fire, Hanzo quick to make his way over to the rubble pile. The metal was Peacekeeper, somehow in near excellent condition like his legs, but as Jesse would have said, he would ‘not look a gift horse in the mouth’, whatever that meant. Stupid cowboy proverbs.

“Jesse, can you hear me?” He set Storm Bow beside Peacekeeper, beginning to pull at the rubble from the floor above. Jesse had stayed behind him as Hanzo had moved up ahead to scout the room, it must have been himself who tripped a sensor.

When no answer came, Hanzo sharply reached for one of his sonic arrows, activated it, and slammed it down on the floor beside him, breathing out a sigh of relief when he saw McCree’s form and the faint rise and fall of his chest.

“Hold on, Jesse.” He hissed, redoubling his efforts to pull flooring and wall from on top of his husband, ignoring his screaming muscles and the thumping in his head.

The twin dragons stirred uneasily along his tattoo, whining and almost overwhelming him with their anxious energy. “Fine,” he hissed. “You can help.”

At once, both spirits flowed out of his arm, standing about five feet tall. Yumiko was quick to begin pulling off some of the larger chunks of cement, her brother Tetsuya moving forward and phasing through the rubble to wrap himself protectively around Jesse as broken bits of ceiling began to crumble around him.

“Gentle,” he quietly reminded Yumiko as he kept watch at the only entrance to the hallway, bow at the ready.

Yumiko let out a huff at him, but slowed her pace as she broke another piece of ceiling between her jaws and tossed it away into another pile.

Finally, with a glance back, Hanzo was able to see Tetsuya peering between the cracks and a metal hand petting the fur along his spine. _He is awake_ , Tetsuya confirmed, Hanzo giving the dragon a nod before going back to his post.

Yumiko moved to instead dig out a hole big enough for Jesse to crawl through now he was conscious again, Tetsuya keeping his body as a barrier between the rubble above and Jesse below.

When Jesse was finally out, sitting back on his knees as he breathed in and out deeply, Hanzo left his post and tightly wrapped his arms around Jesse’s neck. “I was so worried I had lost you.” He mumbled, feeling Jesse grip the back of his gi tightly as he held him just as close.

“I’d be mighty embarrassed goin’ out by some rubble after survivin’,” he paused, “well, everthin’ else.” Both shared a muted chuckle, Hanzo quick to press a chaste kiss to his lips as the dragons purred in satisfaction around them, having used their long bodies to cocoon the couple.

Jesse glanced up at them as he let out a chuckle, scratching each of them under their chin as their purring grew louder. “And many thanks to both of ya, don’t reckon me an’ Hanny could’ve gotten out without y’all.”

_He is right_ , Yumiko confirmed with a hardly subtle tone.

_He is always right!_ Tetsuya confirmed, pressing his long muzzle into the side of Jesse’s neck to nuzzle him.

“They sayin’ good things?” Jesse asked, grinning as if he had heard them himself.

Hanzo let out a chuckle, rolling his eyes. “They know nothing but the art of flattery it seems.”

Jesse pressed a hand to his chest, smiling widely up at them. “A lovely guy and gal after my own heart!” Yumiko quickly ducked down, invading the other side of his neck as she nuzzled in with a thunderous purr, Jesse barked out a laugh as he rubbed his hands through their manes.

The moment of peace was over as the sound of many boots against the ground stormed towards them, the twins instantly growing larger as they stood on either side of Hanzo. It was like a switch had flipped in the twins, the mood shifting between the couple as they turned their attention to the only entrance.

Hanzo knew what they wanted, and if they thought the time was right, then who was Hanzo to argue?

He snapped his bow up, knocking an arrow as he pulled back. “Ryū ga waga teki wo kurau!” Both dragons jumped with his arrow at he let it loose, growing larger as they began to twirl around one another. “Come, while we still have the chance.” Jesse nodded as they both stood, arms around each other as they limped back the way they came. “Call for extraction, my communicator was destroyed.”

Jesse gave another nod, putting his metal hand up to his ear. “Howdy, sorry ‘bout the radio silence. We need t’get out _now_ , Hanzo’s got the dragons coverin’ us.”

A series of screams and the sound of gunfire told Hanzo that Yumiko and Tetsuya had found their intended targets, Jesse giving a smirk as he pulled his hand away and glanced behind him. “Serves them right for fuckin’ with my husband.”

Hanzo rolled his eyes but gave a small smirk, leaning into Jesse slightly. “My knight in shining armour.” He teased, Jesse barking out a small laugh before wincing, his free hand coming up to grip his ribs. “Broken?” Hanzo asked, becoming serious once again.

“Probably, those motherfuckers. I’d like _one_ fight with ‘em that don’t end with my ribs fucked.”

“Perhaps you could mail them a letter; dear Talon, please do not fuck with my ribs, I cannot fuck my husband while I am busy recovering.” Jesse let out a snort, grinning as he kept a tight grip on his side.

“Fuck, maybe they’d stop screwin’ with us if I wrote them somethin’ like that.”

“Bring it up with Morrison in the debriefing.”

Their banter was cut short as two streams of blue danced in front of Hanzo, Yumiko and Tetsuya returning to his arm. _Thank you_ , he thought briefly, able to feel them preening under his skin.

“We better hurry.” Jesse said, Hanzo nodding in agreement as they picked up the pace.

As they rounded the corner, only two flights of stairs away from freedom, a handful of Talon soldiers rushed them. The couple broke apart instantly, Hanzo quick to knock an arrow as McCree used a flashbang.

Three out of five dropped to the ground, the remaining two beginning to send a hail of bullets. Hanzo dodged over back behind the corner they had just come from, Jesse dipping down the hall across the way from him.

Hanzo took this moment to quickly count his arrows, finding he only had five left, and without a doubt Jesse would be running low on bullets as well. A quick glance over saw Jesse looking into Peacekeeper’s chamber before snapping it shut. Their eyes met, Jesse briefly giving him a cocky grin.

“It’s high noon.”

“Jesse—”

The cowboy suddenly rounded the corner as his right eye seemed to glow a touch brighter. He raised his gun and three shots rang out, Hanzo narrowing his eyes in confusion. There had been only two soldiers—

“What is that melody?!” Before Hanzo had a moment to figure out what the hell _that_ meant, he was suddenly thrust up into the air, his back sharply hitting the ceiling that had his quiver crush into his spine. Jesse was also lifted up, both dangling for a moment before gravity seemed to be turned back on and both men were slammed down face first into the floor. The air was knocked from his lungs and he heard his arrows scatter away from him.

Crawling forward to take a peek around the corner despite his body screaming for him to remain still, he saw a large shield just floating in the middle of the hall, four points on the corners seemingly keeping it there. Behind the shield were the two soldiers, but between them stood, no, _floated_ a tall man with a mask that had the traditional red ‘T’ on the face that meant he was with Talon.

Jesse sat up on his hip, wobbly holding himself up with his metal arm as he lifted his gun, firing a round off. The new Talon soldier simply held up his hand as what looked like a tiny blackhole that swallowed up the bullets, a soft red glow establishing itself around his armour.

It reminded him briefly how Brigitte’s armour packs worked, the nanites wrapping themselves around their target to take some of the damage. Had Talon stolen more work from Overwatch? They would need to alert the team to this, figure out how to slow down their progress.

“Who the hell are ya” Jesse asked, panting heavily as he dropped his shooting arm.

The floating man came forward, the red of the mask sinking back into the helmet as an older man’s face appeared, nose hooked and eyebrows sharp. He had some small abrasions on his skin, nothing to write home about, but the chips on the side of his temples were quite interesting. It briefly reminded him of Sombra, how she was able to hack things with a wave of her hand. Maybe he was able to float because of the chips.

Another lead, perhaps. Jesse could probably get _something_ out of the hacker if he asked as nicely as he could with his cheque book.

“My friends call me Seibren, but you can call me Sigma.” The tall man suddenly turned his attention to Hanzo, eyebrows raising. “Oh my, you must be Hanzo Shimada.”

He grit his teeth, did _everyone_ in Talon know about him at this point? “If you are here to ask if I will join Talon—”

“Oh heavens no, I will leave that headache of a conversation to Akande.” Letting out a small sigh of relief, Hanzo let his head hang down as hair that had fallen loose hung down in front of his face, trying to breathe in deeper. They should have brought a damn medic. “But I will ask you to come with me, we’re tired of chasing you down.”

Hanzo’s head shot back up, glaring daggers at Sigma. “I will _die_ before I join Talon, and _you_ can tell Akande that.”

“Don’t y’all have a war to start?” Jesse snapped, now sitting on his ass with his legs out in front of him. “Saw what’cha did in Paris couple years back, then just last year in Cairo, real proud yer fundin’ a second Omnic Crisis, ain’t’cha?”

Sigma turned his attention away from Hanzo to look thoughtfully at Jesse. “I don’t think you understand the gravity of the situation; war will always lead to progress, both sides will need to adapt if they wish to go on.” Sigma suddenly scrunched up his face, leaning away. “No that doesn’t sound right, why would I think that?” He suddenly froze, eyes glazing over as he stared off into the wall. “Can you hear that?” Sigma asked under his breath, the two soldiers at his side looking to one another as they briefly lowered their guns.

Hanzo took this awkward moment to get up onto his knees, glancing at Jesse. “Darlin’,” their eyes locked, “ya need to get out.” Hanzo opened his mouth to argue, but Jesse was already standing. “ _Now!_ ” He yelled, blindly firing behind himself to shoot out the window. “I’ll hold ‘em off!” As if on cue, Sigma came back to himself as Jesse rolled forward, sending out a flash grenade at the tall man.

Worried for Jesse, he hesitated a second too long, and by the time he was moving to jump out the window, glancing behind himself, he saw Jesse backhanded to the side as a fucking _boulder_ was hurling at the archer’s head.

It collided, Hanzo feeling blood filling his mouth and stream down his nose. He began to fall backwards out the window, his head thumping as he tried to clear his mind enough to stick the landing. But everything was too fuzzy, too muffled. He felt a sharp pain on the back of his head before everything went black.

.:.

Hanzo felt dizzy as he came back to himself, but he was quick to turn, seeing a slew of Talon soldiers trying to get closer to Hanzo and his—

Hanzo’s breath almost caught in his throat as he remembered that McCree was his _husband_. How could he have forgotten something like that? Someone so important to him?

“Jesse,” he barked out, almost able to see the sudden confusion in the cowboy’s gaze at not being addressed by his surname. “Get down!”

At once, Jesse did as he was told as he dropped down and pushed himself up against the wall, watching with almost a look of reverie as Hanzo held his bow at the ready and knocked an arrow. _I am sorry to have forgotten you_ , he thought silently to the two powerful spirit dragons rolling around his arm, Yumiko and Tetsuya happily purring to have finally been remembered by their master.

Taking aim down the hall, Hanzo could already feel the twin spirits begin to circle his arm, eager to finally fulfill their purpose after being held dormant for months on end. “Ryū ga waga teki wo kurau!”

At once, Jesse’s whiskey-brown eyes flashed with relief as everything swam in a sea of blue light, the dragons racing down the hall in a twirling dance, consuming the Talon agents and ripping them apart viciously and mercilessly.

Further down the hall, with the help of a sonic arrow, Hanzo was able to tell the soldiers further back had intelligently decided to press themselves into doorways, waiting for the angry spirits to pass them by. An answering call at the end of the hallway had Hanzo smirking, seeing a familiar green glow.

“Ryūjin no ken wo kurae!”

Flashes of green appeared as Genji dashed to and fro, weaving through Hanzo’s dragons as his younger brother and Soba cut down those who had fled Yumiko and Tetsuya’s gnashing teeth and razor sharp claws.

McCree was quick to rejoin the fight, standing back up as he raised Peacekeeper and fired off a bullet anytime a Talon soldier tried to pull a fast one on the brothers, effortlessly reloading as he fired round after round into the enemy.

Hanzo made sure there was always a sonic arrow among the thickest part of the fight, dispatching anyone who dared to come closer to the archer and gunslinger.

The first handful of shots were shaky and missed their mark, but his discipline and years worth of practice swiftly returned to him, watching as soldier after soldier fell from his arrows. Any he missed or only grazed were finished off by the cowboy. He and Jesse worked seamlessly, back to back in a dance as they guarded each other. Hanzo was unwilling to let Jesse slip his mind ever again, and he would do anything to make up for the past year and a half.

Finally, after a few short minutes and a deadeye later, the hall was silent and the comms were pinging with status reports of success in driving the Talon soldiers out.

All was quiet for a moment, Hanzo turning to speak with Jesse, but the taller one suddenly pulled him into a tight hug, Hanzo unable to stop from tearing up as he buried his face away in Jesse’s chest. “I’m so fuckin’ glad yer back, darlin’.” His voice was just above a whisper, Hanzo gripping the back of his shirt more tightly as Jesse shook.

“I apologize for staying away so long, my love.” Jesse made a choked off noise as he suddenly buried his head in the crook of Hanzo’s neck, the older one able to feel hot tears against his flesh.

“Please tell me that this means you have your memories back.” Hanzo glanced to the side, finding Genji standing there, visor and helmet missing, and covered in blood.

A vivid flash of _that_ night briefly came back to the forefront of his mind, and he must have not hid his expression as well as he thought he had, if Genji grinning wildly was anything to go by. “Oh that’s good, you’re making that face, you remember us again!”

Jesse suddenly threw his arm open, Hanzo glancing up to see most of the tears were gone and he was smiling widely. Genji needed no more prompting as he rushed over, hugging them both just as tightly as Jesse had moments ago.

“I am so sorry,” Hanzo’s face paled as he glanced at his brother. “I said such awful things to you when I awoke.”

Genji let out a snort, bumping their shoulders together gently. “Anija, don’t beat yourself up over it.” Hanzo let out a little hum, hiding his face back in Jesse’s chest as time seemed to stand still.

“So,” Genji started, “since you’re back, Hattori seemed to think it would be a good idea to dice you up as well.” Hanzo heard the teasing tone, and he knew Genji would not ‘dice him up’, not after all the progress he made with Zenyatta, but a little part of him, in the back of his mind, demanded him to let it happen, that he deserved it.

He held in a snort at the thought, remembering the few moments in the past year when he had looked to his brother and felt the guilt crawl up his spine. Those thoughts and feelings had context now, and he felt mildly stupid for not putting two and two together.

“Y’all can dice each other up later, I haven’t seen my husband in over a year an’ my hand just ain’t cuttin’ it anymore.” Hanzo felt his cheeks heat up, sending a sharp glare up to Jesse.

“You are shameless.” He muttered, Genji rolling his eyes.

“Another conversation to file away under ‘things I didn’t need to know about my brother and best friend’.” Jesse barked out a laugh at that, finally pulling away and letting the Shimada’s go.

“In all seriousness though, if ya need a minute, Hanzo,” Jesse trailed off, uncharacteristically bashful.

Hanzo wouldn’t admit it out loud in front of his brother and most likely would never tell Jesse, but while he couldn’t remember them, his body had definitely longed for _someone_ , and now that his memories were back, he was achingly aware of the year and a half long separation.

With a small quirk of his lips that the cowboy had claimed was a smile, he leaned up and pressed a chaste kiss to Jesse’s lips, Genji letting out a snort beside him. “I only need a moment to uncouple my prosthetics, then I am all yours.”

Genji made a gagging noise then, quickly turning and heading down to the cleaner end of the hallway. “You’re both disgusting. I’m gonna go bleach my eyes now, go see Angela later once your age catches back up with you, anija.”

Both men chuckled at Genji’s expense, waiting for the cyborg to leave before the wrapped each other back into a tight hug. “I love ya so much.” Jesse mumbled into his hair, pressing a long kiss to the top of his head.

Hanzo smiled into his chest, pressing his own kiss to Jesse’s collarbone. “I love you too.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Feedback and constructive criticism is welcomed and greatly appreciated!


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